


These Bones Never Rested While Living

by Listenerofshadows



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Ambiguous Ending (Interpret however you like), Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Guilt, Possibly fatal injury, Roman Is Not Having a Good Time, Thrown from a Horse, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27881966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: Roman used to think that dying falling off a horse was the dumbest way for important historical figures to go. An almost mundane, dismissive way, one not deserved by anybody much less those glittering flawed idols of the past. They survived through so much, yet it was a mere fall that caused their end? It didn’t seem right to Roman. Not a grand way to end their stories at all.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	These Bones Never Rested While Living

The gentle last rays of the setting sun painted the sky in shades of glistening gold and placid pink; it was beautiful, Roman thought. So much more beautiful than a sight of tree roots or the ground that was coated with his own blood.

Roman couldn’t move. It wasn’t to say he didn’t try to move but even the thought of attempting to move caused an electrifying jolt of pain to shudder through him. He laid flat on his back, arms limp at his sides. Tears hot like candle wax streamed down his face.

He could hear his noble steed Philip neighing in the far-off distance. Normally Roman would be delighted at hearing this for he loved and cared for each horse he rode off to great, fantastical adventures. Today it struck a wild fear into him, rapidly accelerating his heartbeat. 

He couldn’t shake the images from his head. They cycled through his head like a never-ending merry-go-round. The way his fingers grasped Philip’s mane tightly one moment and then nothing the next. His arms flailing in the air, nothing to grasp onto to break the fall. The seconds that felt like hours until he hit the ground and several somethings inside of him shattered to pieces.

It was stupid. So, so incredibly stupid. If he could, he’d laugh until he started crying again. He couldn’t do that or much of anything really. He could only stare at the fading sky, eyes hardly ever blinking, as air pushed through his lungs in and out.

He used to think that dying falling off a horse was the dumbest way for important historical figures to go. An almost mundane, dismissive way, one not deserved by anybody much less those glittering flawed idols of the past. They survived through so much, yet it was a mere fall that caused their end? It didn’t seem right to Roman. Not a grand way to end their stories at all.

It made him think about a memory, just as faded as the sunset before him.

When Roman and Remus were young and still believed that they’d be best friends forever, they’d sit under their favorite oak tree and trade off telling a story. One twin would start with a few sentences and the other would interrupt midway and share their creative vision. 

This generally worked out rather well, until it came to the ending. Roman, of course, liked for Prince Charming to find a happy ending. Meanwhile Remus liked to see him meet a tragic, sometimes utterly meaningless, ending.

“The Prince rides atop his noble steed, Rainbow, an unicorn pegasus with rainbow mane and tail, off into the sunset–”

“And suddenly Rainbow got spooked by a glittering grocery bag and rears–and the Prince falls off, snaps his neck and dies!”

“What? NO!” Roman screeched.

“YES!” Remus screeched back, kicking his legs in the air.

“R-rainbow would never get scared and–and you can’t just kill the Prince! He’s the hero!”

“Heroes can still die!” 

“NO THEY CAN’T!” 

“YES THEY CAN!”

“NUH-UH!”

Remus launched himself at Roman, snarling, with the intention of biting because he always resorted to biting when words failed him. Roman hissed, his limbs frantically lashing out to keep his brother away. They wrestled, earning grass stains and muck in the same spades as cuts and bruises along the way.

Roman couldn’t remember how it ended. Did Patton find them and chastise the two, pulling them apart to spend alone time away from one another? Did they tire each other out and end up falling asleep in a pile? He couldn’t remember and he doubted Remus himself would. If he remembered it at all. It was so funny, one remembered that another would not. If he was Logan, he could wax nerd poetry about the peculiarities of the inner-workings of how the mind preserved memories.

He blinked slowly, the act of breathing feeling like shards of glass grating across his throat.

This wasn’t supposed to be possible. Roman was Creativity, the idealized good Creativity. He was the hero and heroes are supposed to get happy endings in his make-believes. But then– 

“I thought I was your hero.” 

Roman wasn’t a hero and maybe, maybe he’d never been. Perhaps he’d been a villain in hero’s clothing all along. And villains? They didn’t get happy endings, they didn’t save the day and get the love of their dreams. All that met them was death. Sometimes even insignificant, pathetic demises such as falling off their horse.

“–aaaaan!” 

Roman tried blinking. Did he imagine that? 

“Romaaaaaan!”

There it was again, this time much louder. Roman made a pitiful growl, his fingernails digging into the dirt. He didn’t care who it was, he didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Never like this. Princes strived for perfection not imperfection. The only thing he could do was lie still and hope he could die in peace.

“ROMAN!”

They wouldn’t give up though. They kept calling his name for what felt like an eternity. Roman couldn’t understand it–he thought everyone hated him after the wedding fiasco. Even though he’d only been doing what Thomas asked for him to do. What more could he possibly have done?

“-maaan!”

It was dark now, a pitch black sky with no moon or stars. Roman almost thought he’d died if it wasn’t for the hemorrhaging pain that occurred with every breath he took. The voice sounded distant–good. 

Roman wondered what it’d be like to die.

Sides couldn’t truly die, of course, as facets of one’s personality couldn’t die on their own. It didn’t mean they couldn’t become dormant or merged with the subconscious. The Sides had their own bogeyman tales. Even Roman could remember the day Instincts was there and then suddenly wasn’t.

He hated to think it–but perhaps Remus was the Creativity Thomas needed. He’d been apparently wrong about everything else it seemed.

Roman wheezed, a cough rattling in his throat. Flicks of liquid flew out, blood no doubt. Bright flashes of white swarmed his vision.

The voice had stopped.

Roman felt numb, the pain slipping away entirely. Was this it? Was this the end of Prince Roman, a hero to no one? 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” A bioluminescent green light overtook the flashes of white. Tentacles floated into Roman’s vision, encompassing him. His face squished against a frill of sequins as a pungent smell invaded his nostrils.

“R-remus?” Roman managed, the word twisted in a strangled croak of a whisper.

Remus stared at him, his lips quivering with the beginnings of a syllable. Strange, he seemed almost at a loss for words. Remus was never at a loss for words.

The corners of Roman’s mouth twitched upwards. He supposed if anyone had to see this moment, at least it was Remus. It thrilled his brother to catch him being anything less than a perfect prince. And this? This was an ending that Remus could celebrate with glee–the disgraced hero falling off his high horse at last. 

So why was Remus still not saying anything? It concerned him a tad. 

Isn’t this what Remus wanted? All this time, he strived to prove that Roman was the inferior of the two. He insisted Roman was too hopelessly lost in his childish flights of happy endings. He attacked Roman at every opportunity, willingly admitting he wanted Roman dead. So isn’t this what his brother wanted? 

Or had Roman been wrong one last time? 

And with that final thought, Roman slipped from consciousness. 


End file.
